


The most dangerous thing is to love

by makesometime



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Background Grizzop/Sasha, Developing Relationship, Getting Together, Homeric Epithets, M/M, Matchmaking, Meddling, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 06:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30135279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime
Summary: Tell me of two complicated men. Tell me of the lives they touched, the fates they direct and devotions they receive. They keep their people safe. But what oftheirlives? Now goddess, child of Zeus, tell the old story for our modern times.
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 13
Kudos: 40





	The most dangerous thing is to love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elvara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvara/gifts).



> Happy birthday my dearest!! I hope you have the most wonderful day, you deserve it!!
> 
> (Title from Achilles Come Down, and summary a very poor riff on Emily Wilson's translation of the Odyssey)

“Good morning darling.”

Zolf huffs, not breaking his attention away from working at the push and pull of the tides, his hands moving in slow, patient motions. Oscar slides closer, tucking himself in close and leaning over Zolf’s shoulder to watch just in time to see a rogue wave burst against the side of a ship, capsizing it.

“Shit.”

Oscar laughs, stealing an inhale of Zolf’s sea salt and leather scent before sitting back. “Brother Death will hardly complain about further tribute.”

Zolf’s quiet for a moment, reaching out a hand for Oscar’s. Oscar peers at it curiously and then gives in, shuddering at the tingle that races up his arm as Zolf looks into his head. Visions of bloodshed and hatred race through his mind in reverse, the loss of at least three innocent lives now unwritten in the annals of his Library.

His little teasing unwittingly erased the slaughter of an entire family. How delightful. Even Zolf cannot find cause for anger in _that_.

“What do you want?” Zolf spits, walking away from the world’s oceans to fetch himself a drink.

“I thought I’d tell you about a fascinating thing I found at my temple in Thebes.” He says, sniffing when Zolf doesn’t extend the offer of ambrosia to him as well. “But maybe I’ll just leave.”

“What a treat that would be!” Zolf says with false cheer that only serves to raise a wry smile to each of their lips, laughter barely stifled. “Alright. Tell me.”

Oscar waves his hand, conjuring an image of the temple, focused on the base of his statue. “People have started leaving offerings to _you_. At _my_ temple.”

“What?”

Oscar reclines a little more, allowing his _chiton_ to shift and expose a little more of his chest. ( _He earns Zolf’s attention, and grins with it._ ) “I know, most peculiar. So I took a look in at one of yours, just to see if it was an unexpected mix-up.” 

With a half-hearted flick of his wrist, the illusion morphs into one of Zolf’s temples in Korinthos. There at the base of Zolf’s illustrious form is a series of offerings left by locals and sailors alike, and amongst them, a series of feathers sharpened into quills.

“As you can see… it appears to be a common theme.”

“Mortals.” Zolf mutters dismissively, looking back at his work and rolling his shoulders. “Millennia later and they’re still a mystery.”

“Don’t you find it _intriguing_ , darling?” Oscar pushes, letting the illusion fall. “What is it about us that makes the mortals suddenly feel the need to combine our devotions?”

He knows what he _wants_ Zolf to say. He knows that he wants to hear a slow acknowledgement of the tension that’s existed between them for so long that he doesn’t remember life without it. He also knows what he _thinks_ Zolf will say. Some sort of quiet scoff and gentle insult.

What he gets is somewhere in between.

“That’s what happens when the Father of Stories gets involved with my devotees.” Zolf murmurs, looking over his domain and plucking at threads here and there. “Put all your silly ideas in their heads and they start invoking your name on long journeys.”

“ _I_ thought it might have been because they’ve noticed us on our evening walks.” Oscar says, in part to watch and see if any colour comes into Zolf’s cheeks. “I miss those.”

(If Zolf didn’t realise he was putting increasingly less effort into his shielding illusions when they took their turns about the mortal realm, he might well soon figure it out.)

“If seeing gods together was enough to alter people’s worshipping they would have been doing it long before now.” Zolf says, still paying him absolutely no mind. “I miss them too, though.”

It’s very unbecoming of a godly creature quite how much that makes heat fizzle in his belly. Oh, but they have been doing this dance for entirely too long at this point. He really should make a move, but an eternity is an awfully long time to live with rejection. The few drunken kisses he’s managed to initiate will do for now.

“Perhaps we could go tonight?”

He watches in quiet anticipation, dialing into the lines of fate and watching as Zolf gathers them with a sailor’s prowess, tying a knot that Oscar’s certain no one else could ever hope to undo. He looks up in time to see Zolf turn around and wipe off his hand, accomplished.

“Alright. Where sounds good?”

#

They roam in the foothills of Mount Parnassus over the course of several evenings, time passing at a different rate for their godly footsteps. It allows them the sight of several sunsets across the Aegean, and as time progresses, Oscar stops himself from pulling away when their hands brush.

Eventually, he guides them around the gulf and they look upon all of the ships sailing into Korinthos with a faint interest. They pause, safely ensconced by Oscar’s magic, and Zolf points out crews who have shown him appropriate fealty, and those that are lacking in their dedication. In turn, Oscar tells him of their projected fates, the fascinating notes of their personal stories and any places that Zolf might particularly want to intervene.

He is only distracted from the way the sun lights upon Zolf’s eyes by the sound of mortals getting close to their little hiding spot. He waits, but the sound of singing hits his ears and fills his heart as he recognises one of the shanties dedicated to Zolf.

“That’s a new one.”

It _is_ different, he realises after a while, and it’s only as they grow closer that he recognises it’s been blended with one of the odes to _him_. It works a lot better than it should do in the rough voices of sailors, the call and response backed by a gentle harmony held by one of the younger members of the crew.

“Well. I think that’s lovely.”

“Yeah.” Zolf says, quiet. He chases it with a disbelieving laugh. “What is going _on_.”

Oscar pushes to his feet and reaches out a hand for Zolf. Zolf takes it and Oscar pulls until they’re both standing, looking up the track towards Zolf’s shrine. 

“I think we should probably just… ask? Don’t you?”

They take a walk together once more, and if Oscar doesn't drop Zolf's hand for half of it, that is between him and the luxurious mound of pillows he screams his frustrations into on particularly bad days. 

The crew has made it to the statue by the time Zolf and Oscar arrive, each of them stopping in turn to leave coins and feathers and pieces of driftwood and little shells. One of the crew places a piece of parchment down, covered in scribbles, and tells Zolf's statue with great sincerity, that it is a poem he thought up with tribute to Zolf and his chosen consort. 

Zolf splutters beside him and Oscar has to slide a hand over his mouth to hide the width of his smile. 

“Consort?!“

“It appears to be more serious than we thought, darling.” Oscar replies, trying to keep his good humour out of his voice. “Unless we _did_ get married, but I really think I would have remembered every one of my dreams coming true.”

With a huff that's not a rebuke but not an agreement either, Zolf storms off to the other side of the temple, shrinking down into the form that he takes to interact with the mortals. Oscar follows, uncertain exactly what he intends to _do_ but very excited to find out. 

“You there!” Zolf commands, to the devotee who just left the poem behind. No one else notices the voice but the man's back turns ramrod straight at Zolf's voice. 

“My lord! The Guider of Waves!” The man splutters, rushing forth and dropping to his knees. He clasps his hands to his chest, looking up in desperate surprise, which only doubles when Oscar appears at Zolf's side. “And the Father of Stories! What have I done to deserve such blessings?”

Zolf swallows, looking up at Oscar and then away sharply. “Your latest offering. It was to both of us?”

“Oh yes!” The man says, proud. “I was ever so impressed with myself, I told the others it was as if my hand was divinely guided.”

Oscar smiles, summoning the paper to his side. He scans it quickly, amused at its attempted rhyme scheme, and passes it over to Zolf. “It's lovely. What did you say your name was?” 

“Khristos, good Sir.” 

“Khristos, might you tell me _why_ you believe us to be worthy of such joint devotion?” Oscar asks, squeezing his hand over Zolf's shoulder when the parchment crackles in a too-tight grip. 

The man frowns, looking down at the ground and then back up. His eyes are golden now as he speaks again, the truth drawn out of him by Oscar's gentle urging. “I do not know from whence the knowledge came. Only that it has spread throughout the land. Everyone knows it to be true. Everyone accepts that it is correct. That the two of you have been bound throughout time and reality, in this world and the next.” 

Oscar ignores how the man sags as he withdraws his probing magics, turning to Zolf instead. “I sense divine intervention. A great deal of it.” 

He waits until the realisation dawns on Zolf's face to nod, something in his stomach twisting unpleasantly. 

What a wicked trick to play. 

“Khristos.” Zolf says sharply, and the man looks at him, afeared. A beat, one too long for comfort… before Zolf shakes his head. “Go well. Your journeys will be blessed.” 

“Thank you, thank you sir!” Khristos says as he scrambles to his feet. “Thank you.”

Oscar slips his hand in Zolf's, sighing a little as their fingers twine. It's a truly lovely feeling, to be held by hands that wield such power. Perhaps Zolf feels the same way. 

“Let's go.” 

Oscar doesn't need to ask where. 

#

“Zolf!!” 

Azu's voice rings around the cavernous palace, sheer delight filling the simple word. The Mother of Bonds knows how to make someone feel like they belong. 

“And Oscar too, welcome! It's been too long since we had the pleasure of your company.”

“What did you do, Azu?” 

Zolf’s question comes in such a weary voice that Oscar’s worries of his anger exploding are allayed, at least for the time being. He watches Azu try to school her expression into something confused, but she overshoots into guilt with far too much ease. It was never her strength to hide her emotions, and why should it be?

“Won’t you come into the parlor for some ambrosia? I can summon the others.”

It is no time at all before everyone is gathered. The Lord of Hunters speaks with his consort, and for once they appear to be blessed with being able to behold the Master of Shadows. Next to them, the Speaker of Inspiration babbles to one of their retinue about something or other that Oscar is sure he would find fascinating, were he not currently suspicious of them all.

He watches as Azu settles herself beside the Inheritor of Flame caught somewhere between his godly and bestial forms. They dip their heads together and have a quick, whispered conversation but he cannot see any hint of guilt on Hamid’s face beyond that which is permanently there. What _have_ they been doing?

“Alright Zolf?” Comes Sasha’s voice from significantly closer than when he last saw her. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve just spent a few hours with Bertie.”

“Oh nothing so frightful, I assure you.” Oscar cuts in, before Zolf can think too hard on _that_ point. It’s still a sore subject between the two of them, centuries later. “We just returned from the mortal realm.”

“Ah.” Sasha says, melting back a little into the shadows. “Gotcha.”

“Whose idea was it?” Zolf asks, looking at each of them in turn, but returning to Azu, which, really, is a little on the nose but Oscar can’t blame them for it. 

It takes a moment... before every single one of them raises a hand, Grizzop included. Oscar shakes his head, laughing quietly to himself. Of course. It could only be so thoroughly widespread if all of their godly colleagues decided mischief was the order of the day.

“Zolf, we did it for _you_. _Both_ of you.” Azu says, leaning forward, expression entreating. “For your happiness.”

“Our _hap_ —.” Zolf starts, halted only by the gentle curve of Oscar’s hand over his shoulder.

“Now now, darling. No need to burn bridges just yet. I think I see what our friends here were hoping to achieve.” Zolf doesn’t look up at him, but some of the frantic energy does start to dissipate beneath his palm. “By ensuring the mortals believe us to be… entwined, shall we say—.”

“No we _shan’t_ say—.”

“Our friends thought perhaps to highlight that it makes sense for us to be just that.” 

Cel, Azu and Hamid nod, eager and pleased to have been understood. Sasha still looks a little unimpressed and Grizzop leans against her side, rolling his eyes.

“For what it’s worth, I told them it was a stupid plan.” He says, looking down at his claws, inspecting them with an air of disinterest.

“You did it anyway though.” Zolf points out, through a painfully clenched jaw.

“Yeah.” Grizzop grins, all of his teeth gleaming and on display. “Thought it would be funny, and turns out it really is. You should see your faces!”

Sasha stifles a laugh, pulling him a little closer as he joins her. “S’pretty funny Zolf, sorry.”

“What exactly did you tell them?” Zolf asks, voice flat and unimpressed in a way that makes something unpleasant tingle down the back of Oscar’s neck. Why does it feel like this little escapade is close to turning sour?

Cel speaks first, their hands busy making notes that Sassraa is nodding along to, unconcerned with the ridiculous notions of whatever her colleagues have entertained themselves with.

“Well Zolf, I think all of us told our devoted different things of course, but you know how easy it is for false information to disseminate, we all do…” They trail off, looking around and finding themselves without backup. “For my part, I told them that there was a new partnership to be aware of when planning their projects, and that any interest in making use of the oceans might land better if they considered the narrative, you know? Little hints… nothing sinister.”

“I just told everyone who’d listen that you were fucking now.” Grizzop says, grinning broad and wicked when Azu turns to him with a gasp. “Of _course_ I didn’t Azu, have a little faith in me.”

Zolf huffs, turning to Oscar and then back to the others. He looks a little at a loss for how to proceed.

“Well, darling. It can’t precisely be undone… can it?” He asks the assembled group, receiving shrugs and embarrassed looks. “But there’s no reason that we must fall into each other’s arms, loathe as I am to say so. The mortals have had many a fanciful idea in their time.”

“Yeah. Yeah sure.” Zolf levels an accusing finger at everyone. “Don’t come asking for help any time soon. You’re all on my shit list. Yes, even you Sash.”

Oscar spots her giving a little pout before fading into the shadows fully, drawing Grizzop along with her. Oscar stands, uncertain quite what to do as Zolf leaves the room in a smooth motion, melting into seafoam and crashing waves before he’s even reached the door.

“Oscar…” Azu says, drawing up beside him and placing a warm hand over his shoulder. “I know your heart. Better than most.”

“You do.” He agrees. Turning to her, he enjoys the way he has to lift his gaze, a novelty in his long long life. “But do you know Zolf’s?”

The smile she gives him is one of those that he knows she’s trying to stifle, the full force of it fighting not to shine through and give away her thoughts. “Maybe you should follow him.”

“Just a suggestion, I assume?” He asks, hooking an arm around her in a half-hug. “Thank you, Azu.”

Azu’s laugh is like sunshine, like a warm embrace from an old friend. “I don’t deserve that, but you’re welcome, Oscar. Go to him.”

#

He finds Zolf several miles above the Aegean, pacing so fiercely that his footsteps create waves in the sea below that make the boats in the Port of Piraeus rock hard against their moorings. He wants to intercede, to petition for the mortals and their livelihoods, but he senses such pleas might fall on deaf ears.

“Is there anything I can do?” He says eventually, once Zolf doesn’t disappear or suggest he leave.

“No.” 

“Is the thought of being my consort so unpleasant?”

Zolf stops, peering over at him. “Think you’ll find you’re _my_ consort.”

He laughs, sitting down on Zolf’s little angst cloud so that neither of them have to strain their neck too badly. “Of course. As it should be.”

Eventually Zolf stops pacing, moving over to him crossing those lovely strong arms over his chest. “I’m not offended. Upset, maybe?” He must see something in the expression on Oscar’s face, because he brings up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Let me speak. I’m upset that the choice was taken from us.”

“Alright. I can understand that.” Oscar says. “Though we were hardly very adept at making that choice.”

“We’re immortal, Oscar.” Zolf says, very quiet and very steady. It’s hard not to stare, so he doesn’t even try. “I didn’t want to make a mistake. You’re too important to regret for an eternity.”

It feels as though his heart stops. A moment of silence passes, then another, before he inhales sharply. “You’re too important too. But you could never be a mistake, to me.”

Zolf winces, looking down at the ocean and taking a few deep breaths until the water calms beneath them. “I’m not angry at the idea, I’m angry at the others for taking this from us. It should have been our choice.”

“It still is, Zolf. You’re still my choice.” Oscar smiles when Zolf looks a little struck by his honesty. “What? Did you expect me to deny it?”

“You’ve never been honest with me about this before.” Zolf mutters, fingers flexing against his forearm. “It’s all clever words and suggestions with you.”

Oscar laughs, quiet and subdued. “And _you’d_ rather not see me for weeks each time I’m lucky enough to steal a kiss than face up to what we could be.”

“I _told_ yo—.”

“Zolf. Please. Be honest with me.” Oscar says. “I need to know if this is ever going to happen. If it’s not I will respect that, but I don’t think I can go much longer without knowing.”

He doesn’t dare move as Zolf gets closer, barely dares breathe when one of Zolf’s warm hands cups his cheek. After a moment, Zolf leans in and he lets his eyes drift closed in anticipation, unable to stifle a quiet moan at the gentle press of lips to his.

It’s not their first kiss, but it’s the first time it’s not felt like it might also be their last. Oscar melts into it, chancing a gentle touch to Zolf’s elbow. That makes Zolf sidle closer, holding his face now in both hands and Oscar grins, swiping a tongue over Zolf’s lips and earning himself a deepening of the kiss.

When he finally opens his eyes, he enjoys the slightly clouded, hungry look on Zolf’s face before Zolf pulls himself together.

“Is that a yes?”

Zolf smirks, and it makes his stomach do a terrible swoop. “It’d be a pretty terrible no.”

Oscar smiles, but it’s not enough. “Please, Zolf, I need to hear it, I—.”

“It’s a yes, Oscar.” Zolf says. “It’s always been a yes.”

Oscar kisses Zolf again, because he _can_ , because he’s not going to be left alone, never again. He embraces Zolf with a tenderness that he’s never allowed himself to delve into before for fear of rejection. When they part this time, Zolf’s got a strange look on his face.

“They’re gonna be insufferable.” He says, when Oscar squints at him.

Oscar grins, leaning in to nudge his nose against Zolf’s. “We don’t have to tell them. It can be our secret for, oh, a century at least.”

“Yeah.” Zolf smiles, and it’s like the sun’s shining on his skin after millennia in the shade. “Yeah I like the sound of that.”


End file.
